


Evasive Maneuvers

by flake_sake, Morgana



Series: Playing Games [2]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flake_sake/pseuds/flake_sake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One way or another, the past always comes home to roost</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evasive Maneuvers

** Okay, that's it. I've had it. He's been damn near killing himself with work lately, always in the office until I go down and basically tease him into coming up and fucking me, and then we've barely had a chance to sleep before he's up and headed back to the office. Starting to feel like a trophy wife, here. Not to mention he's gonna end up walking out into the sun someday if he doesn't learn to find a little enjoyment in life outside of Evil, Inc. **

I call down to check his schedule, and what a surprise, he's in a meeting. Of course. But today his little work fetish is gonna work for me instead of against me. I would try stripping and waiting for him, but I think I'm gonna need something bigger to make my point, here. So I go down to his office, pick the locks and let myself in, then get to work. First thing to go is the phone, followed immediately by the pile of paperwork in his in box. Wouldn't have expected all those figures and reports to burn so nicely, but they really set up a pretty crackling in the wastepaper basket. Inspired by the flames, I pull out the spray paint I picked up last night and start decorating the walls. Pictures of Angel naked and on his knees, with a nice big slogan about how much he loves and craves my cock... oh yeah, that oughta make an impact.

Once the fire's out, I dump the whole thing on his desk, take my favorite short-handled flogger and slam it down right in the middle of the wreckage. His desk cracks a little, but the flogger stays standing and I blow it a kiss before I slip out and head upstairs. Sure, Angel might be a little ticked about the redecoration at first, but eventually he'll understand. Just to be on the safe side, though, maybe I should call the pet humans up for Chinese. **  
**  
The meeting takes forever to end, and I'm practically crawling back to my office afterwards. Three hours of Semarac demons making speech after speech about their vast superiority is just about all I can take. After sitting through one racist slur after another, I just want to go back to my office, finish the paperwork that's constantly waiting on me, and head up to the penthouse. Hopefully Spike won't have gone out tonight, and we can watch a movie after we eat, snuggle a little, and maybe I can even get him to give me one of his special massages. Just the thought of his hands on my aching neck has me smiling as I open the door to my office, and-

What the hell happened in here?!? The whole room looks like a bomb was set off in it! How could anyone get in here without triggering at least seven different alarms? The place reeks of burnt paper and paint, and when I reach for the phone to call security, it's scattered in pieces all over- my desk! My beautiful, mahogany, imported, 150-year-old desk has a huge crack on the top with a flogger embedded in it! I reach out for it, but then I see the writing on the wall above it, and that's when I know. 

_Angel loves my great big cock inside his enormoous poofter ass every chance he gets._ There's only one person on the planet with the ego to announce his destruction like this. I swear to God I'm going to strangle that little bleached bastard for it, too! What the hell does he mean by that, anyway? I do not love his cock in my ass every chance I- well, okay, so maybe that part's true. But his cock isn't _that_ big and I do _not_ have an enormous ass!

I snatch the flogger up, ready to flay every last bit of skin off his ass, and that's when I realize that the little fucker did all this on purpose! He wants me to go storming in there all pissed off just so he can say that he got to me! Well, he's about to get a hell of a lot more than he bargained for. I shove it into my pocket and head upstairs. If he knows what's good for him, he'll be spread out on the bed waiting for me.

** I have to look down to hide my grin when I hear the front door open. Truth to tell, I'm half-surprised I didn't hear him scream my name from several stories down, but then it's a bit hard for even vampire hearing to pick anything up over Charlie's new CD. I turn it down a little and call out for Angel. “In here, pet!” **

The door slams shut and he stalks in, and already I can tell it's gonna be good tonight. “Spike, you-” he barely manages to cut himself off when he catches sight of the people sitting around the table. “Uh, hey everybody.” 

“Figured we'd have the humans over for a bit of Chinese, yeah?” He's got his plastic smile on now, the one he uses with company when he's trying not to vamp out and start screaming.

"Hey Angel," Fred says in her soft voice. 

"Angel, man, what's up?" I grin at Angel's obvious discomfort when Gunn chimes in, wondering if any of the humans can tell how badly he wants to tear me apart right now. 

I go over to meet him, give him a kiss and then pull a concerned look, even put my hand on his cheek like a good little corporate spouse. "Seem a mite discombobulated there, luv. Somethin' go down at the office?"

Oh, that one got to him. He glares at me, then gives the humans a weak smile. "Everything's just fine at the office. I'm just... really tired." I can almost see his eyes shifting between brown and gold, but somehow he manages to hold on. “That, uh, the meeting was really long and I've got a pretty bad headache. I hope you don't mind, but I think I'm just gonna take an aspirin, have some blood and go to bed." 

Uh-oh, now he's giving them a pitiful little look that I can tell right away is tugging at Fred's heartstrings. "Oh dear. Well, we don't want to trouble you. We'll just-" 

I break in before she can say 'leave'. "Don't be ridiculous, pet. Little food, good company, time to relax an' he'll be good as new." 

"I think we should clear out and let Angel get some rest," the Watcher says. He and Fred start gathering up the food and before I can say anything else, the whole of them scatter, leaving me alone with Angel.

As soon as they leave, he starts up. "Bad meeting, pet? Sorry about that. Want I should go off for a bit, give you some time to recover, then?"

I grab the back of his neck so the little rat can't desert the sinking ship, then wrap my arm around him. “No, that's okay. I know how much you want me to have your comforting presence nearby.” 

I squeeze him until I can hear his bones creak. He wriggles a little, but I've got him held too tightly to let him get loose. “So... reckon a hot shower might make you feel better?"

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of your great big cock, since I'm apparently always trying to get it inside me!” I snarl, shoving him away from me. “Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You just had to make trouble! Well, now you've got it.”

He peeks up at me through his eyelashes. "That a promise, then?" I don't bother answering him, just unbuckle his belt and yank it free of his jeans. His eyes widen when I hold it up and double it in front of him, and he reaches for my hand. "Look, pet, just wanted to get you to lighten up a bit, yeah? Make time for some fun besides killin' things."

**His lips curl up in a smile that does absolutely nothing to reassure me. “Oh, I'm light, all right,” he tells me, and I have to fight not to shudder as he strokes one finger down my throat. “Light as a feather, Will.” Ohhhh fuck, why does he have to call me Will in that velvety voice? It always makes me want to just melt in a puddle at his feet. Lips brush lightly over mine and my head starts spinning when I feel him start unbuttoning my jeans. “Hope you didn't have any big plans for the next couple of days, though.”** ****

"Never have any plans unless shaggin' counts," I breathe, shivering as he pops the second button open. One more and he'll be able to reach inside and-

“Good to hear, because you won't be able to sit down for at least a week by the time I'm done with you.” The sharp tone in his voice jerks me right out my happy place, and I snap back to reality just in time for him to strip my shirt off and spin me around.

Shit, he's not really gonna take that bit with the flogger seriously, is he? “Hold on a second, here! Don't remember askin' for-”

“Oh, you asked for every bit of this and more, and you know it.” I'm in no kind of mood to let him off the hook, not when I think about what he did to my office. I pop the last two buttons free, then yank his jeans down. God, he's got a gorgeous ass! I take a second to admire the view, then run a hand over one cheek. “Let's see... I think we'll start with ten for breaking and entering, then add twenty for the desk, another twenty for your little art project... and five for the phone, since I never really liked it anyway.”

"You don't like anythin' that's even remotely modern," he mutters.

I toss the belt aside and give him a light swat for talking back, take the flogger out of my pocket and trail the handle down his spine. "That doesn't mean I want it destroyed. Hands on the couch and scoot back,” I tell him, nudging his legs as far apart as the jeans will allow. “So, why don't we start with you thanking me for showing you the error of your ways?”

He snorts. “Not your soddin' Ken doll,” he growls. “An' not about to say thanks when we both know I didn't do anythin' wrong.”

That's what I used to love most about him- he never knows when to quit. I smack him hard with my palm. “You'll be whatever I want you to be,” I snarl, squeezing the red mark on his backside before I hit him again. “Do I have to get you warmed up before we even start counting, or are you going to remember your manners, boy?”

**His hand comes down twice on my ass and I can't keep myself from moaning, "Thank you, sire." He's always been able to do that to me, reduce any protest I had to nothingness and make it hurt so very good.** ****

“That's a good boy,” he purrs, his hand sneaking around to cup my balls. “I always knew you were a fast learner.” The flogger's handle moves up my back as he spanks me another few times. “By the way, remind me to thank you for the present later... or maybe I'll let you thank me.” Another swat before he moves back to cradle my balls again, and I'm already about to scream. “Ready for your punishment, Spike?”

Punishment? _Fuck._ I didn't mean to get him that wound up, that he'd start trotting words like _punishment_ around! But I'm pretty sure that opening my mouth right now would be a whole new form of suicide, worse even then telling the Slayer that yes, those pants _do_ make her ass look big, so I just nod instead.

“Such a good lad. God, if you could see how pretty you are,” he murmurs, and I have to bite my tongue to keep quiet. Why the fuck is he always calling me pretty, like I'm some tart he picked up at the local? The first stroke lands on my right cheek, with the second and third right behind, but I don't make a sound. Not going to give him the satisfaction, not when I already thanked him at the start like he wanted. 

He brings the lashes down again, and fire licks over my ass. “If I were you, I'd start counting, boy. Because I'm about two seconds away from starting all over.” I bite back a whimper and shift, but a heavy hand on my back holds me still just before three hard strokes land at the base of my spine. “Count, goddammit!”

“Six, sire!” The words slip out in a strangled cry that goes right to my dick. I reach down to adjust myself, then move down to his thighs, giving him less and less time between blows. Welts criss cross his skin by the time we get to fifteen, and I give him a minute to rest, tracing the lines with my fingertips.

He whimpers softly, Angel...” I love hearing my name on his lips, and it's never better than when he's bent over and suffering for me. This always one of my favorite things, watching him as I stripped away all of his defenses, one by one, until I was the only thing in his world.

“Yes, Spike?” I move up to trace one finger over the welts on his ass, slipping down along his crack to brush over his hole. “Something you wanted?”

He moans and tries to move, but I pull back before he can get anything more. We're not nearly done, and I'm not about to let him think he's won, even if I am hard enough to cut glass. I give my dick another quick squeeze as he gasps, "Please... just say you'll... that I can- oh, hell. You're not gonna leave me hangin' are you?"

I cluck my tongue against my teeth. “Always was hard for you to keep focused, wasn't it? You're getting ahead of yourself, baby. We're not even close to finished with your punishment, and here you are, asking for treats like a greedy boy.” I brush the tails of the flogger over one cheek and smile as he shudders. “I think I should add another ten lashes for that, don't you?”

He groans, then answers in a low voice, “Yes, sire.” I consider teasing him about wanting a whipping and adding more strokes, but settle for giving him a hard smack with my hand instead.

** “What number was I on, boy?” Oh, Christ. Hearing him call me boy in that velvet purr... Jesus, it's almost like it used to be. I'm getting dangerously close to losing my shit entirely, and he hasn't even really touched me beyond a little teasing. **

“Fifteen,” I gasp, and I'm a little surprised when he doesn't accuse me of lying or miscounting, just chuckles and swats me again. But that was always Angelus' game, finding new ways to add to my torment, and it's not Angelus at my back now; it's Angel, and I know he'll take care of me. I don't have to worry about him going too far, don't have to be afraid of him. I can let myself go, jump off the edge of a cliff into darkness and he'll always catch me and keep me safe. Of course, he's usually the one pushing me towards the edge, but that's beside the point.

Another hard blow lands on my ass, and I barely have time to get the count out before the lashes fall again. He drives them forward, fast and hard, laying it on me with all the power of the lust that's pouring off of him in waves. I can feel stripes forming on top of stripes, and it's actually starting to hurt, but then he scratches down my back with the next strike and it all falls away. I moan and arch my back, although I'm not sure if I'm pushing into the strokes or trying to get away from them. The only thing I know, the only thing I can feel, is his hand on my hip and the leather licking over me like fire. I groan when he lays a particularly hard one down on me, then gasp as a pinch makes it all razor sharp. "Christ! How close is that to done?"

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping count,” he chides me, hand sliding into my hair to pull me back off the couch, holding me steady while he gives me a hard kiss. The flogger falls down to the floor as he yanks me back against him and rocks his hips, driving his cock against my ass, making me whimper at the way his pants rub over my welts. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to be inside you now?” he whispers. “Watching you wiggle under that lash makes me think about pinning you down and fucking you, and that's making me so fucking hard.”

Ohhhh hell. First he kisses me insane and then he talks like that?!? "Do it," I blurt out. "Fuckin' do it, already!" He pulls back and spanks me again, then pushes me back into position. I struggle to keep still, but Jesus Christ, it's hard.

And the bastard knows it, too. He chuckles softly, then bends down to pick the flogger up, giving my ass a quick bite before he straightens up again. "Ready to take it all now, boy?" he asks, then lays the lashes down before I can answer. This time he really goes at me, holding me still and whaling away, and I grit my teeth and try to ride it out. A little it more. Just a little more and then he'll slide up inside me and-

**“HOLY FUCK!” I hear him growl at that, but I don't care because that last one _hurt_ and now I'm really trying to get away from it. He doesn't let me, forces me down and everything narrows until all I know is the bright pain and the lash and when it slashes over me, I throw my head back and scream, "Sire!"**

I know I should stop, but I can't seem to. I can smell Spike's blood, see it gleaming in scarlet stripes on his thighs and ass, and I should let him up, should call it even, but he's just too fucking gorgeous like this to quit now. “Will,” I mutter. “My Will. Gonna fuck you so hard, make you scream for me, make you-”

“Sire,” he moans softly, and the word draws me up short. I walk around the couch and crouch down in front of him. His eyes are glazed, glistening with pain and shining with lust, and I hold the flogger up so he can see it, then slowly lick his blood off one of the strands. 

I rub my dick as I stand up, feeling his eyes following my every move. Squeezing my shaft, I let him see how hard I am, then slowly walk back around and scratch down his back again. “Something you want?” I ask him again.

He whimpers, his hips rocking forward into the air. I haven't touched him, but I can see his cock stretched up against his stomach, and I know it has to be hurting by now. “Angel, please,” he gasps.

I take a little pity on him and step forward, pulling him up as I press against him again. “Who am I, Will?” I ask him, licking a long stripe up his neck. I graze Drusilla's mark with my teeth, then nibble down his throat, moving closer and closer to the other, more visible scar on his neck. My scar. 

He arches in my arms and writhes against me. “Angel,” he whispers, trying to squirm away as I move lower down, but I hold him fast.

I bite his shoulder and rock against him, smiling when a pained moan escapes despite his obvious efforts to hold it in. “Try again,” I purr. 

He shudders against me when I trace the scar with my tongue, and I can almost feel his confusion as he asks, “Master?” The soft, tentative question is so much like my William that I'm hard pressed to keep from throwing him down and fucking him right there, especially when he repeats, “Master, please...”

“Please what?” I ask, sucking on the scar. I love this little proof of Angelus' insanity and obsession with his boy a helluva lot more than I should, I know. It's my proof that he's mine, that he's always mine, first and foremost, and I can't get enough of it. He wiggles back against me, and I give one of his nipples a hard pinch. “What do you need, boy?”

**Pain and pleasure are all wrapped up in him, and if he doesn't fuck me soon, I'm gonna lose it all over him. "Angel... Master, fuck, please... need you," I beg. It's shameless, I know, but I need to feel him inside, to have him driving into me.** ****

One big hand slips down to cup my balls and his teeth graze my scar. Fuck! I can't keep from bucking against his hand, and his soft laughter when he feels my dick pulse against his wrist sends shame and heat twisting through me. “It's gonna hurt like hell,” he warns.

"Don't care," I gasp, tilting my head to the side so he can get at the scar better. He's right, I know he's right, but he's taken me dry before, and right now I need it too much to think about the pain. Besides, it's not like I won't heal.

He pushes me down and shoves two fingers inside me and I hiss at the dull ache. "Shit, that's-" But then he scrapes them over that little spot inside and I can forgive him anything. "Angel," I moan, almost out of my mind when I finally hear his zipper slide down. "Please... now."

“Sure you don't care?” he whispers, leaning down to bite my ear. “I'm going to rip you to shreds when I get inside you, you know that, right? The way you look when you've been whipped, the way you feel... I'm gonna tear you apart.” 

I shake my head. "Need it. Need you. Fucking hell, Angel, please!" God, I'm gonna die if he doesn't fuck me already!

The fingers slide out and I feel a sharp pinch on one of the welts right before he rubs the wet tip of his cock over my hole and pushes forward. I can't help trying to move away from him at first; he's just too damn big to take dry and why didn't I remember that? Oh yeah, I let my dick do the thinking again. I can smell blood and I'm pretty sure he's torn something, but it's making it a little easier, so I don't care. Besides, when he's all the way in, he grinds against me, and I moan. “Tell me again you don't care,” he mutters, hands tightening on my hips.

"Don't care," I repeat, leaning my forehead against the back of the couch. I'm probably signing my death warrant with this, but if he doesn't fuck me soon I'm going to go mad.

That gets him moving. He slams into me and not even the blood is enough to make the pain go away. Fuck, it hurts! I know I asked for it, but fuck! I grit my teeth and clutch the couch until I think I might tear the leather apart. He's so fucking big, tearing me apart and splitting me open until I think I can feel him in the back of my throat and I whimper something that sounds like his name.

I'll admit I might have overreacted a little bit- taking him dry is a bit much, even if he did beg for it. A little destruction really doesn't warrant this, but I'm not about to stop now. I grip his hips tightly and shift so I can hit his prostate. He moans softly, arching as I run a hand up his back. “So fucking beautiful,” I tell him. “So brave, my gorgeous boy. That's it, you can take it all, can't you? No way to break you, no matter what. Ohhh, that's it, show me how much you need it.” 

He pushes back against me, trying to take more and I give it to him, hard and fast. “Never break,” he mutters. “Never stop... never stop, Angel. Love you, love you so fuckin' much.”

I lean over him, letting him take my weight as I fuck him harder, biting all over his neck and shoulder. Can he come like this, without me touching him, I wonder? I hope so, because I don't know how much longer I can hold off. My balls tighten up and I groan, “Show me you want it, boy. Show me there's nothing you can't take pleasure in. Fuck, come with me, Spike!”

I bite down on the scar on his neck and suck, and he howls, “Sire!” and I can feel his insides clench around me as his hips jerk against me. Shit, he's really coming just from me fucking him! I thrust against him hard and empty myself into him, coming in a hot wash of scent and sound and Spike. 

“I love you,” I murmur, nuzzling him as I drift slowly back to earth in the aftermath. Jesus, and to think that I wanted a neck rub! Sometimes he knows so much better than I do what I need- not that I'd ever tell him that. At least, not in those words. “You're the devil, but I love you.”

**Those words always make me smile, especially when I've just come my brains out at his command. "Love you too, pet." He pulls out and I can't hold back a cry when it sends fire licking through me, and not the good kind, either. ** ****

“Oh, God, Spike.” I twist around to look at his stricken face, and his guilt-filled eyes, and mentally curse myself out for pushing him this far. He lightly touches my ass, then says, “I'm so sorry. I-”

"Here now, none of that,” I tell him. “Not as bad as it looks. Just need a hot soak in the tub an' a little extra blood, yeah?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he's picking me up and starting for the bathroom. Ordinarily I'd protest being carried about like a chit, but between the pain and coming all over the couch, I'm not really in any shape to protest. Besides, it isn't like he doesn't know I'm not a fan of the poofy after-sex stuff, not when I've had to talk to him about it before. 

He turns the water on and sets me down on the toilet, then pulls the rest of his clothes off. I'd like to be able to enjoy the show a little better, but I'm too tired to care at the moment. When the tub's full, he lifts me up and steps into it, then sits down and arranges me against his chest. “If I admit that I liked this, will you agree not to trash my office anytime you want some attention?” he asks me softly, idly stroking his thumb over my scar. A memory stirs from deep within, but I push it aside. Don't need to think about that, not when I'm in my Angel's arms and he's taking such lovely care of me. 

I mumble what I hope is an agreement, although I think right now I'd probably say yes to almost anything he asked. The water stung at first, but now it's starting to feel bloody brilliant, and if he'll fuck me like that even once a month, I'll follow him around like a tame puppy dog if he wants me to. "Wanted you here," I manage to tell him. "Work too hard, pet. Missed you."

"I know. It's just... for every good thing I do here, I have to accept ten horrible things.” It's eating me alive, but I don't tell him that, even though I think he knows it anyways. I reach for the soap and start to wash his chest. “I've missed you, too, though.”

He relaxes back against me, staying quiet until I've finished washing him. After I rinse him off, he sighs and says, “"Need to relax, mate. Work too hard an' it'll catch up to you." 

"I'll try to do better to keep it under control, how's that?" I wish I could promise him more, but with the way things are developing, I'm probably going to have to get even deeper into this before I can get out. Tonight was something unexpected, a chance to be with him and let some of the darkness that's been working its way under my skin out. I know I could never enjoy this with anyone else. I nuzzle his neck, placing a light kiss on his scar. "You'll remind me if I forget again, won't you?" 

He tilts his head back to smile and me, and I wonder for the thousandth time what it was I did right to end up with him in my arms, sleeping in my bed every night. “Always will, pet.”

I want to tell him how much I love him, how much my world has changed since he became a part of it, but I think he'd probably laugh and call me a poof, so I settle for turning my wrist up to him. “You lost blood tonight. I want you to feed, and no arguing.”

His bones crunch as he shifts, and then his fangs sink slowly through my skin. There's no danger, no hurry, and I'm not about to stop him from taking as much as I can spare, not when he moans softly with every single swallow, shuddering against me like he's tasting heaven itself. I fix my eyes on a bruise and watch it heal, glad that it just washes away like it was made with watercolor. Just play. I lean my head back against the tile, hold Spike close as he feeds, and count my blessings, hoping to God that I can keep him this time.


End file.
